


Resol'nare

by shadowmaat



Category: The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Gen, Identity Issues, Light Angst, Philosophy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-13
Updated: 2020-12-13
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:28:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,269
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28036956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shadowmaat/pseuds/shadowmaat
Summary: He doesn't regret what he did. How could he, when it was necessary to achieve his goal? But he does wonder what it means for him now. Who is he?
Comments: 13
Kudos: 179





	Resol'nare

**Author's Note:**

> _The Believer_ was a rich and heartbreaking ep, so I wrote a little snippet of Din trying to come to terms with the choices he made, with a little help from a friend.

Deep down he’d known this moment had been coming. Ever since he’d chosen to go back and save the kid from the Imps, he’d been on a countdown. And he didn't regret the choices he'd made, of course he didn't, but... he'd just hoped he’d have longer.

Din took a deep breath, feeling the ache in his chest. His Covert was mostly gone, either dead or scattered to the solar winds, and he had no way to contact them. He doubted they’d welcome him back anyway, seeing as it was his fault that they had to scatter. He’d chosen the kid- chosen Grogu- over them even back then. He hoped they’d understand, but...

He knew Cara and Fennec were chatting, knew they were trying to include him, but he just let their words wash over him. He’d lost his home, he’d lost his kid, and now he’d lost his own identity. Who was he if he wasn’t Mandalorian? Just a pretender in armor he didn’t deserve. He couldn’t give it up, though, not yet. He’d need the beskar’gam in order to get Grogu back and then... then he’d have to figure out a new plan.

He closed his eyes, remembering the chill touch of air against his bare skin, the unfiltered stink of the refinery air, and the unaugmented view of the world around him. The people who had _looked_ at him, actually seeing _him_ and not his face. He shivered in his armor. Grogu needed him, though. The kid was depending on him and had no one else in the universe. Din knew how that felt.

When he opened his eyes again, Cara and Fennec had cleared off and Fett was sitting across from him, helmet on. He inclined his head in acknowledgement.

“We’ll get him back,” Fett said without a trace of uncertainty. “We’ll bring Gideon down and get the kid back with you where he belongs.”

“I know,” Din said, trusting the modulator to hide the roughness of his voice. And he did know. He’d tear the universe apart to get Grogu back. He’d already started with himself.

“He’ll be fine. I’m sure he knows you’re coming for him.”

“I know,” Din repeated.

There was a pause, then Fett reached up to pull of his helmet. Din tried not to flinch; no matter how many times he saw it, the instinct was still there.

“Tell me,” Fett said. “Did your Covert teach the Resol’nare?”

Din’s heart clenched. _He couldn’t know, he couldn’t!_ Anyone who’d seen his face was dead except for Mayfeld, and his old partner, well... before this he wouldn’t have trusted his ex partner to keep his word, but now? Maybe now. He drew in a shaking breath and straightened his shoulders, ignoring the stab of pain from the hit he’d taken earlier.

“You mean the Way?” he asked. “We call it the Way. It’s the Five Tenets that mark you as Mandalorian.” He wasn’t sure why Fett was testing him, though he’d questioned Fett’s right to his armor first, so maybe it was deserved.

“First, your armor is your life. Take care of it and it will take care of you. No... No living being may see you without it or you’re dead.”

He could hear the tremor in his voice and paused, clearing his throat.

“Second, you must defend yourself and your clan. Anyone who tries to harm you or them is the Enemy and you will spare no effort to stop them. Failure means death.”

That, at least, was easier. Gideon was the Enemy and he would be destroyed for what he did.

“Third, all must contribute to the wellbeing of the Covert. Only together can we stand strong against the might of those who would destroy us. To refuse contribution is to doom us all.”

He _had_ contributed. He’d done everything he could to support the Covert, but in the end it hadn’t mattered.

“Fourth, you must raise your children in the Way. Children are our sacred duty. Without them we are nothing. You are nothing. Teach them the Way so they may grow strong.”

He closed his eyes and drew in another breath. That... that wasn’t something he’d spent a lot of time teaching Grogu. They were a clan of two, but there was the expectation that eventually he’d find Grogu’s people so they could raise him in their Way. It wasn’t something he wanted to think about right now.

“Fifth, you must answer the Covert’s call. If one of us is in danger, all of us are. We will rise to their aid and give everything we have. Our lives for their lives. This is the Way.”

He leaned back, watching Fett for a reaction. His face had stayed blank through the recitation, but now a frown pinched at the corners of his mouth.

“Huh,” Fett said. “I see we’re doing away with the bit about Mando’a. Not enough speakers left?”

Before Din could answer, he continued.

“Your version’s a little more extreme than the one I was taught. Our armor is important, but I wasn’t told never to remove it.” The scars across his face twisted into a smirk. Or a grimace. “Of course I had my own reasons for keeping it on as much as possible, but most of those reasons are long dead by now.”

Din tilted his head. He hadn’t had a lot of time or interest in researching Fett, but this wasn’t the first time he’d dropped hints like that.

“You’re still Mando’ad even without your armor,” Fett said.

Din tensed again, causing a fresh throb of pain in his shoulder and across his ribs.

“Mandalorians are a culture of refugees, immigrants, and the displaced. My father would say the most important part of our lives is how we care for our children.”

An expression flitted across his face, one Din couldn’t even begin to process.

“Whether born, made, or found, ensuring the survival of our children is the most important thing a Mandalorian can do.” Something like pain settled in his eyes. “My father... did what he thought was best on that score and I never really bothered to try, but you? You’re embodying that right now.”

Their eyes locked. Of course Fett would know exactly where to look. 

“You’re more than your armor, vod’ika. It’s just a tool to help you protect and defend what’s yours. An important tool,” he added with a grin, “but the most important part is what’s in here.” He reached out, tapping Din’s chestplate. “The kar’ta beskar, the heart of the armor, is only a _reflection_ of the heart of the warrior within, it isn’t the heart itself.”

He stood, stretching. “I need to make sure those two aren’t fighting in my cockpit. Or fucking.” He nodded at Din. “Think on what I said. And remember there’s more than one way to be Mandalorian.”

Din watched him leave, mulling over their conversation. Fett hadn’t tried to mock his beliefs, hadn’t tried to tell him he was doing it wrong. He’d even said it was a version of _his_ Way. It was a relief to meet someone who finally understood.

He reached up, rubbing the diamond shape of the kar’ta beskar. _You’re more than your armor._ He wondered if it was true. He wanted it to be. Was his heart a warrior’s heart? Was it enough to overcome the sacrifices he’d made? He’d have to think about that, about whether or not he could be a different type of Mandalorian. For now, though, they had a kid to bring home. At any cost. 

This was the Way.


End file.
